


Misdemeanor

by Gleennui



Category: Glee
Genre: Arrested, Crullers, Friendship, Gen, High School, Kurt's wearing Cons, Light Angst, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed, Tim Horton's, Vandalism, this is practically begging for a sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5853109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gleennui/pseuds/Gleennui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Puck gets a 2am phone call. This better be one hell of a good story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misdemeanor

Puck almost doesn’t wake up at all when his phone rings; as it is he has no idea how long it goes off before he finally realizes it’s not part of his dream about a never-ending rollercoaster at Cedar Point. 

It’s not a number he recognizes, and even fully awake he’s positive he wouldn’t guess who it is, but he answers it anyway, because at the very least he figures he can tell wrong-number person to stop calling and look somewhere else for their friend. 

“lo?” 

“Puckerman?” The voice sounds far away and sort of panicked. Puck sits up and blinks backs down at the number again, frowning. He’s sure it’s not Finn, so now he’s more curious than worried. 

“....yeah?”

“It’s Kurt.” He doesn’t sound any less panicked than before and now _Puck_ is back to being worried. 

“Shit, is Finn okay? Where is he?” Puck looks blearily around his room, grabbing jeans and pulling them on over his boxers. “I can be there in five.”

“Wait!” Puck stops with his hand on his keys. “It’s me. I’m uh...Puck, I’m in jail.”

 

$300 later, Puck’s spinning his keys on his fingers and waiting for the cop to bring Kurt out of the holding area. The only thing Kurt had said was, “It’s a misdemeanor, Puckerman. It’s fine,” which the clerk had confirmed when she let Puck pay a cash bond and clucked her tongue about how low Kurt’s bail was. 

“Kurt Hummel,” the cop announces--pretty unnecessarily, Puck thinks, since no one else is in the waiting area. Kurt steps out where Puck can see him, and Puck raises his eyebrows so high they hurt. Kurt’s wearing jeans made from actual blue denim, a huge black hoodie Puck’s never seen any of the Hudmels wear before, and Cons. He blinks for what feels like several long minutes at Kurt, who’s looking down and fiddling with his hands that Puck can see look stained several colors. 

“You owe me $300 and one hell of a story,” Puck says as Kurt signs some paperwork and takes a card that looks like the appointment reminders they give you at the dentist. Kurt doesn’t answer him all the way out of the precinct and into the truck so Puck waits before he puts it in reverse, staring over at Kurt while Kurt shifts in his seat. “Dude, I’ll wait all night if I have to. Just the longer we wait, the more chance Burt finds out where you’ve been.” 

“It was just graffiti, Puckerman!” Kurt huffs out, still not looking at Puck. 

“Okay, well that explains the outfit, at least. Now _why?_ ” Puck backs slowly out of the parking lot, still glancing over at Kurt. Kurt shrugs, and Puck can see him scowling in the reflection of the window. “How about this: most people don’t go wander around tagging things at 2am by themselves on some kind of whim. So why don’t you start by telling me who told you to do that?” 

“It doesn’t matter. No one,” Kurt sniffs.

“Yeah, okay, except I woke up out of an awesome dream and came here at 2am with $300 of my pool-cleaning money to bust your sorry ass out of jail so my best friend didn’t have to lie to his mom and stepdad, so it kind of does matter.” 

“It was just some people,” Kurt says, sighing. “I wanted a change. I was feeling _stifled_ by expectation.” 

“I know. Your life is super-hard. Are these the kind of people who are going to be pissed when you tell them you’re not going to be, uh,” Puck stops at a red light. “expressing your creativity with them anymore?”

“No,” Kurt says sullenly. “I’m the one who asked them if I could do it.” 

“Oookay,” Puck says. He feels like his eyebrows have been permanently raised since he answered the phone. They ride in silence for a while until Puck turns onto the Hudmels’ cross-street. 

“Do you have to show up to court?” he asks more quietly than before. Kurt nods, and when he turns to finally look at Puck he looks younger than Puck remembers him in years. “Okay. You should probably tell Burt, then.” Kurt nods again and runs his hand over his eyes. 

Puck pulls into a driveway and turns his truck around in the opposite direction of the house. “You got your wallet on you?” Kurt nods. “You’re buying me coffee. Neither of us might as well get any sleep tonight.” 

The workers at the Tim Horton’s look at miserable as Kurt does, so Puck throws the rest of Kurt’s ten dollars in the tip jar when they take their coffees and the crullers Puck’s sure Kurt’s going to be glad they got in about five minutes. Kurt still looks like he’s about to cry when they sit down at the farthest table from the counter, so Puck just sips his coffee and waits, nudging Kurt’s cruller closer to Kurt the longer the silence goes on. 

“I can’t be with him,” Kurt says finally, still sounding small. Puck nods. Kurt’s mouth is twisted up to the side but he reaches for the donut and tears a strip off it. “But you know…” Kurt waves the hand holding his cruller-strip. 

“Everyone likes him,” Puck fills in with a shrug. He’s almost 99% sure that’s not even true, but he figures Kurt probably feels like it is, and he can understand that pretty well. 

Kurt nods and chews on his cruller-strip. “Sometimes it feels like everyone was only proud of me because I was living my life the way a gay high schooler is supposed to. And that included Blaine.” Kurt wrinkles his nose. “He’s so…”

“Inoffensive?” Puck supplies again, and Kurt actually smiles, though it looks bitter. 

“That’s a way to put it. He’s very acceptable.” Kurt sighs. “And I realize we’re the only gay boys at McKinley, but surely people know I’ll eventually have other options.” 

Puck raises an eyebrow, because, yeah, he hasn’t exactly been waving rainbow flags, and yeah, he’s not actually gay in the way Kurt thinks all non-straight dudes are, but he hasn’t tried to hide anything either. He opens his mouth to correct Kurt, but ultimately 4am on a Saturday morning in a Tim Horton’s probably isn’t the best time. 

“You’re gonna be miserable if you stay with him,” Puck points out as gently as he can, considering the time and the circumstances. “Can’t waste your life just because everyone thinks you should be with the person you date in high school, right?”

Kurt raises an eyebrow at Puck over his coffee and Puck shrugs. Kurt can think whatever he wants to think, and if it’s true, it’s true. Puck can’t exactly deny it. 

“Anyway,” Puck continues, “even if you stay with him, you can’t tag gas stations. Or anywhere else.” He stands up, tossing his empty cup in the trash. “I’m not getting up to bail your ass out anymore, and you’re not calling Finn, so unless you want to have to skip your skin thing you do because you’re sitting in a cell overnight…” 

“Yeah, all right,” Kurt says, sounding defeated. 

“Dude. Eddie Munster’s not worth having a dumbass vandalism charge on your record. As it is, we both know Burt’s going to flip his shit before he gets you a lawyer. Don’t be a moron and do it _again_.” 

Kurt doesn’t answer, but Puck takes that as a good sign, and he’s quiet all the way back to the Hudmels’, though he’s stopped the sighing and sniffing. The house is still dark when Puck kills the engine and coasts into the driveway, and he sees Kurt visibly relax. 

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Puck says, unbuckling his seatbelt and gesturing to Kurt to do the same. “You’re not going to wake up Burt and Carole right now. We’re going to climb in through Finn’s window, and if they hear you, you’re going to pretend you couldn’t sleep and needed fresh air. Gimme the hoodie.” Puck holds his hand out and Kurt peels the sweatshirt over his head, revealing a long-sleeve t-shirt with pictures of peacocks all over it. “Why did--you know what, never mind,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Ready?” 

Kurt nods silently, so Puck climbs out of his truck, chucking the hoodie in the bed. When they get in front of Finn’s window, Puck dials Finn’s number. Finn answers right before Puck thinks it’s about to go to voicemail. 

“‘Hmm? Puck?” 

“Yeah, hey, open your window,” Puck says, nudging Kurt toward the maple tree. 

“You’re _here_?” Finn asks, and he already sounds less sleepy. 

“Yeah. Me and Kurt, but I promise I’ll--” Kurt shoots Puck a look over his shoulder, and Puck rolls his eyes. “ _I’ll_ tell you what happened when we get in.” 

“Oh. Oh okay. See you in a second!” Finn doesn’t hang up, but he must put the phone down, because Puck hears a muffled “ow, shit!” and then the sound of Finn’s blinds going up. A second later, Finn’s head is peering down at them. Finn looks more excited to see them than he does confused, which makes Puck chuckle to himself, because of course Finn would see a 4am window appearance by his brother and his--and Puck--as a social visit. 

Kurt’s still looking unsure about the tree, so Puck gives him a little shove. “I know you can climb that scaffolding thing and this is way sturdier. C’mon.” 

Kurt huffs a little but he does climb the old maple, hauling himself through the window when he gets there. Puck waits until he sees Kurt’s Cons disappear and then scrambles up the tree himself, grinning when he sees Finn’s face. 

“Dude! What is Kurt wearing?” Finn steps back when Puck climbs through. “Where’d he _get_ those? And why were you outside? Either of you?” 

Puck chuckles. Kurt’s apparently already headed back to his room, because Finn’s door is locked and Kurt’s nowhere to be seen. “Tomorrow. Err, later today. I’ll tell you _everything_. Promise. Can we sleep now?” 

“Uhhh,” Finn glances at his bed and then at Puck, who’s taking off his sneakers and jeans. “If you don’t mind.” 

“Wouldn’t have asked if I minded,” Puck says, grinning. He climbs into Finn’s bed, scooting to the far side and rolling onto his stomach. Puck’s eyes are already starting to fall closed as he pulls Finn’s comforter up around his shoulders, but he can feel the bed dipping and Finn’s long weight near him as Finn slides under the covers. 

“Are _you_ okay, anyway?” Finn’s voice is low and closer to Puck’s face than Puck would have expected so Puck keeps his eyes closed and nods. 

“‘m good. Promise.” 

There’s a shuffling noise, and then Puck can feel Finn scoot closer, so he doesn’t jump when Finn’s knee presses against his calf. “Okay. Good. That’s good.” Puck hears Finns sigh and then settle, his breathing getting even. Puck lets himself start to drift off, and he’s so close to sleep that he almost doesn’t register the feel of Finn’s long fingers brushing along his side and then resting there, his knuckles just barely pressing against Puck’s skin. It’s good in a way Puck hasn’t let himself think about in a long time, and Puck makes himself let go of that weight of expectation that he knows they’re all feeling, even if they don’t go do dumbass things with fake McKinley “gangs.” 

It’s a little bit like his rollercoaster dream, he thinks. Strapped down in a seat and no way to see how or when it ends while someone else is at the controls. But Finn’s fingers pressed to Puck’s side and his breath even and warm near Puck’s face makes everything feel like it’s a little more in his control, even if Puck knows it’ll all be gone in a few hours. 

It’s enough for now, though, Puck thinks as he falls the rest of the way asleep. They have a lot to talk about in the morning.


End file.
